A sharp rap at the chamber door woke her. Scipio rolled over gruffly. Hyperia crept out of bed and threw a silk robe over her nakedness.

"Oh, it's you," she whispered, gazing at the sharp, hawk-like face of Yewen Illymium. An advisor from her slaughtered parents' household, Yewen had accompanied her to Oran after the siege of Mynimium. Although old and frail, he was one of few men living under the palace roofs whom the queen trusted completely.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, my lady, but you wished to be informed ..."

Hyperia slipped into the hallway and closed the door softly behind her.

"Yes, what is it?" she whispered, brushing away a loose lock of hair from her face.

Yewen fixed his violet gaze on his queen and said quietly, "Moranna Nazeer was apprehended on Pendulum Road. She's been taken to the dungeon."

A slow sigh escaped Hyperia's lips. "I will meet you there shortly."

She dipped back inside, taking a moment to confirm Scipio was still asleep, then dressed quickly and silently in a dark velvet gown to ward off the night's chill. She left the chamber and moved surreptitiously down the hallway, her slippered feet making a soft patter on the marble floor through pools of torchlight.

She traversed the narrow suspension bridge connecting the private living quarters to the main palace. The wind whipped her skirts around her, and black clouds scudded over the sky, obscuring the mother moon's milky gaze.

When she reached the main hallway, Hyperia picked up a flaming torch from a wall sconce before veering off into a narrow passageway. She followed a set of winding, spiral staircases four stories down to the palace's lower depths. Each step brought a tang of dankness. Leaks dripping from the thick stone walls through layers of black mold slapped against the slate as she made her way carefully down the final turn of the stairs.

She stepped down on the stone floor of the dungeon and brought her perfumed handkerchief to her nose to blot out the foul odor of human misery. A guard, alerted by Yewen Illymium of the queen's arrival, stood stick straight at the entrance. Hyperia pushed past him and wound through the narrow walkway dividing the two rows of barred cells.

When a filthy hand reached out through the iron bars, the guard turned and slammed it with his cudgel, sending the prisoner retreating to the darkened corner of his cell.

"Mercy, My Queen," the condemned man muttered.

Without a backward glance, Hyperia continued to the farthest end of the walkway where Moranna was confined. Outside the cell door, Yewen Illymium waited for Hyperia in a pool of torchlight. The guard placed a key in the lock and turned it with a heavy clank. The cell door creaked open on rusted hinges, and Hyperia stepped inside. The arc of her torchlight found her former maidservant in a sorry state. Moranna's wrists were chained to the wall, her plump legs folded beneath her on a bed of filthy straw.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"Moranna Nazeer," Hyperia said, her voice filled with loathing. "Did you really think your little trick could fool an Illymium?"

Moranna's eyelids fluttered open. Her body was bent and bruised, but her green eyes flashed with rage. "Did you really think yours could fool our god?"

Hyperia's fist shot out, catching the older woman in the jaw and knocking her head into the rough stone wall. An agonized moan escaped from Moranna's bloody lips, causing the other prisoners to shake the bars of their cells and howl like wild dogs.

"Shut her up!" Hyperia demanded, her shrill voice echoing off the thick dungeon walls.

After a moment, two guards entered. One carried an iron mask, a device rarely used under Davadas' liberal rule, and placed it on Moranna's head while the other held her down. The neck screws were tightened until the woman's screams became only muffled moans.

"Leave us," Hyperia snapped.

She waited until the guards' footsteps faded, then, with only Yewen Illyminum standing by her side holding a torch, she addressed her captive once again.

"Moranna Nazeer, I sentence you to die for treason against the royal house of Davadas."

Hyperia knew it was mocking laughter and not fear that shook Moranna's broken body. Hyperia struck her again, this time hitting low into Moranna's soft gut.

Moranna crumpled, her wrist manacles the only thing keeping her body from complete collapse.

"Your sentence," Hyperia whispered, "shall be enacted immediately." She retrieved a small dagger from the folds of her gown and slowly heated the blade with the torch's flame.

"But there must be a proper trial, my lady," Yewen said. The torch trembled in his hand, scattering shadows about the grim cell. "That is Davadas law."

Moranna's eyes flashed at the old man with sudden desperate hope.

"Did Davadas law help us, Yewen Illymium, when the Nazeers attacked our city, killed our people, and made slaves and whores out of those who remained? Have you forgotten, old friend?" Her gaze shifted between the dagger's edge turning blue in the flame and Moranna's green eyes shining through the slits in the iron mask.

Yewen began to speak, stuttered, then stopped, his jowls trembling. He had held a position of high renown in his former city, but here he was nothing more than the queen's minion—a weak and ineffectual man, and at this moment, terribly afraid.

"Despite the generosity of the Davadas people," Hyperia continued, her violet eyes glowing in the grim dark cell, "we Illyminums are strangers here in Oran. Reviled, disrespected. Even this fool," she cocked her head toward the prisoner, "who washed my soiled underclothes, thinks she is superior to me. I see it in her eyes. The Nazeers slaughtered us!" Her voice hit a note that sounded nearly like a scream. "And yet the Davadas people showed them mercy, and look how they repay it. In Oran, there are trials for criminals, but in Mynimium, we use different methods. Don't we, old friend?" She shifted her gaze to Yewen.

"But we are in Oran, my lady," Yewen whispered weakly.

"We are, but in spirit, we are Illyminum. They say we are weak, but we are the people made in Illym's image! And one day, my friend, we will return to rule all of Ardelym."

Moranna moaned and rattled her chains.

Hyperia removed the stiletto's blade from the flame. "And now, Moranna Nazeer, I will blot out those green eyes of yours that mock me so." She took a step toward her prisoner, who now struggled desperately. "And when I am finished, I will cut out your slanderous tongue."

Yewen Illyminum held the torch as steadily as he could and muttered old Mynimium prayers to blot out the sound of rattling chains and muffled screams.